


Little Shop of Wonders

by vifetoile



Category: Fruits Basket
Genre: Bisexual Character, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Present Tense, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 13:52:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15074546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vifetoile/pseuds/vifetoile
Summary: Four turning points in Ayame and Mine's relationship, seen through Mine's eyes. Complete.





	Little Shop of Wonders

**Author's Note:**

> I love how flamboyant Ayame is, and it’s a language that he and Mine both speak. I could imagine a much more dramatic love affair, but I also like that Mine can bring out his more serious, subdued side, and that informed the tone of these snippets. Sometimes the things that mean the most need the simplest expression.
> 
> Oh yeah, and I don't own Fruits Basket, I never have.

She had sent in her resume, provided character references, and given an interview. At request she had provided samples of her finest work with cloth--the ones that she had available, at least. She had submitted a practical but cute apron, a dress of black-on-black embroidery, and a simple blouse. The blouse she had agonized over, but it  _ did  _ represent her best work, even if it wasn’t the showiest. These samples had been returned in a first-class mail package, with a handwritten note informing her that she had gotten the job, and would she please call to arrange a start date.

Today is the start date. As long as Ayame Sohma isn’t looking at her, she can stare at him, because she has never seen a man so stunning. At the moment he is dressed in black with gold and silver accents--professionally tailored, though if it’s his own work she can’t tell (yet). He is putting on an act of aloofness, but Mine gets a feeling--just a feeling--he’s as curious about her as she is about him.

“Sooo…” he says. “Mine Kuramae.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t call me ‘sir,’ you haven’t earned ‘sir’ yet. If you want to work for me, there are strict house rules you must obey.” 

“Yes, bossman.” 

Mr. Ayame Sohma, her new employer, clasps his pale hands behind his back. “Despite the admiration you may feel for my lithe, supple form, or my deadly skill with a needle, or even my incredible _ je-ne-sais-quoi, _ you are not, under any circumstances, to throw your arms around me, not even in a paroxysm of love. Do I make myself clear?” A glare. “Absolutely no hugging me,  _ ever _ .” 

“Yes, bossman. No paroxysms.” 

Mr. Sohma glares at her. Mine allows herself a tiny smile, and can see him suppressing a smile in return. “Cheek won’t get you far around here,” Mr. Sohma tells her. 

“Won’t it?” Her eyes flit to a costume on display--one that rewards the ample derriere. Mr. Sohma redoubles his efforts to frown. “I am attempting to instill fear and respect in my subordinate!” 

“Oh, sorry, I thought I was being dazzled. Bossman.” 

“No, no.  _ Dazzling  _ was the goal of the interview. You passed the interview, now you’re going to  _ fear  _ me.” 

“Sir.” 

“Save ‘sir’ for our customers with military inclinations, Miss Kuramae.” 

“Bossman. I worked in a maid cafe. I could tell you stories that would make your skin crawl.” 

Mr. Sohma raises an eyebrow. 

“I won’t share any with our customers, but sir, it is rather hard to frighten me.” 

“You should have listed that on your resume. By working at the Little Shop of Wonders you are going to be venturing into a strange new country. A country of fantasy, where everyone is a stranger, and everyone is afraid.” 

“Afraid?” 

“Oh, yes. People are afraid of themselves, afraid of what they really want.” He goes to a rack of dresses, each unique, arrayed in a gradient of pink. He pulls out a tea-rose-colored dress and hands it to Mine. “That color would suit you admirably. Yes. You could be a maiden pure in the land of fantasy. You meet the monsters… but the monsters of course are actually our customers.”

“Fear makes monsters.”

“Exactly! And the maiden pure must meet the monsters with kindness and understanding. That’s the way to bring out the  _ prince  _ within! Or princess.” 

“I understand, Bossman.” 

“That color flatters you.” 

“I prefer black and whites. Or gray.” 

Mr. Sohma presses a hand to his heart. “I take it as a personal challenge. I’ll make a rainbow of you. But that leads to my next rule--you can design your own outfits and wear what you like at work, but it  _ must  _ be fabulous.” 

“Yes, Bossman.” 

“Any questions?” 

“What are the other rules?” 

“Oh,” Mr. Sohma waves a hand, “we’ll get to those in time. I just wanted to emphasize--Be fabulous. Be understanding to customers. And never, ever hug me.” 

Mine blinks. She had almost forgotten the first rule at this point. But she’s an even-tempered young lady who respects personal space--there’s no way this will ever become an issue.

“I understand, Bossman.”

000

 

Mine has been working at Little Shop of Wonders for six months now. At the beginning of her employment, Bossman talked about hiring another helper, but that talk has faded away. Mine can charm customers, fill out orders, organize stock, and more. The work tests her sewing skills and gives her imagination free rein. 

Today is something of a promotion. Bossman-- he has told her not to call him “Mr. Sohma”-- has a desire for a blouse in a pale, fetching lilac. Mine spent an hour with him sketching out blouse ideas, from cuff to collar, and as their imagination reached a frenzy, Bossman snapped his fingers and said, “I demand this blouse as a commission from you, Mine!”

“Happy to take on the challenge, sir!” Mine had gotten to her feet, measuring tape in hand. 

“How soon can you start?” 

“Right now. Get on the stool.” 

And Bossman had stepped onto the stool, shucking off his outer jacket. Mine had begun to measure him--

And now things are a little awkward. Because Mine does not often touch the Bossman, and she finds it’s oddly thrilling to do so. He’s very cool to the touch. Mine finds herself holding her breath when she lays the tape along Ayame--  _ Bossman’s _ \-- arms, his shoulders-- 

Okay, maybe she has a bit of a crush on the man. Maybe it’s just the novelty of touching him. 

“Ah-- I think that’s everything,” Mine says, with less certainty than usual. She looks up at him on the stool, and their eyes meet. 

Oh no. Is she blushing? 

Bossman clears his throat, and says, “Consider this a test. If this blouse is up to your usual standards, I may commission you for more-- um -- clothes.” 

“You’re far too kind, Bossman…” She holds out her hand and he takes it, balancing himself as he steps down. Now they’re more level, and still holding hands. 

Yes, she definitely has a crush. Her heart doesn’t pound this hard because of  _ novelty _ . 

She takes a deep breath--

And the door opens in front. The bell rings, and instantly Mine and Bossman break apart. 

“I’ll see to the customer, join us when you can,” Bossman says-- and is he a little distracted? 

A voice from the front of the store says, “Knock knock?” 

“Oh, it’s  _ Gure! _ ” Bossman exclaims happily. He hurries out of the fitting room. Mine writes down the measurements, but her lines are a little crooked and hasty-- she’s curious to see who is out there. 

In the main room of the store, Mine sees two young men alongside Bossman. She halts and stares-- together the three of them are a striking tableau, they’re each so handsome. And it’s more than that-- their presence brings out Bossman’s warmth and true smile.

Of course they would-- these are Bossman’s cousins and dear friends, the other two “Musketeers,” as Bossman refers to them. They’re going out for lunch today. Bossman had told Mine about this, adding that they might be quite some time-- “You know how it is when old friends get together!” 

Bossman turns to her now. “Miss Kuramae! If you would be so kind as to join us? Meet my bosom friends!” 

“Don’t call us that,” says the man in the suit. His air is calm, and his suit is inconspicuous but well tailored. A lock of black hair hangs over his left eye, and something about that gives Mine a shiver. 

“So this is the dear Miss Kuramae,” says the other man, the one in a forest green kimono. His smile is easy, but his eyes are sizing up Mine mercilessly.

“Miss Kuramae, my cousin Shigure Sohma,” says Ayame, with a gesture. “The renowned writer, master of plots. And my cousin who helps keep me alive, the estimable Hatori Sohma.” He lays a hand on the shoulder of the man in the suit. Both men bow, and Mine returns it. 

“I’ve heard so much about the both of you,” Mine says. “Bossman talks about you often.” 

“Well, Ayame talks about  _ you,  _ too,” Shigure says, making Mine blush. “I could write a book about you. I won’t, of course. I never put people into my books… not without express permission.” 

Mine isn’t sure how to reply to this-- a teasing repartee, a demure self-effacement? She looks to Bossman for a cue, and he’s frowning. 

Hatori clears his throat. “Ayame, you said you had some ties that might interest me?” 

“Oh, yes! Hatori, I always tell you you should indulge in more colors.” 

Hatori makes a noncommittal noise in his throat. Mine turns on her heel and fetches the box of ties-- Bossman had laid it specially aside. Mine grins as she opens the lid--the ties are jewel-bright and richly embroidered. Bossman had said they were ties fit for a dragon, and laughed; Mine wasn’t sure what was so funny, but if Bossman was happy, so was she. 

She remembers this and her smile falters. She really does have a crush. Not ideal. 

Hatori heaves a little sigh. “These are awfully bright, Ayame.” 

“I tell you, color!” Bossman urges him. “You can’t dwell in the shadows forever.” 

Shigure’s eyebrow lifts at that. “Yes, nothing screams ‘Take me seriously, I’m a doctor’ like a tie covered in little… what are those?” 

“Honeybees.” The wind is going out of Bossman’s sails. “Symbol of diligence. You’re the most diligent soul I know, Hatori.” 

Hatori glances up, and his eyes-- eye?-- meets Mine’s. She gives him a modest smile. Some people need a little encouragement to bring out their inner  _ fabulous _ .

Hatori looks back at the ties. “I like this one,” he says finally, picking up a tie of deep blue, with teal waves. It is, by a mile, the least garish tie in the box. 

“I thought you might!” Bossman says, back in high spirits. “I said to Mine,  _ that  _ is the tie of the  _ sea _ . Symbolically resonant and aesthetically pleasing.” Bossman folds Hatori’s fingers over the tie. “This will be a gift.” 

“Ayame, I couldn’t,” Hatori protests, as Mine replaces the box on the table.

“A gift! Thanks to Miss Kuramae, this shop is thriving.” 

“Is that  _ so _ ?” Shigure says. “It sounds like he’s a stern taskmaster,” he says, and steps over so he can make eye contact with Mine. “Do you want me to take you away from all this?” he says to her. His tone is a little too intimate.

“You’re far too kind,” Mine says, at the same time that Bossman steps in. 

“ _ Shigure _ ,” Bossman says, and his tone is icy. With a breath, he recollects himself. “Don’t demean the girl. Mine deserves to be wooed like a queen.” 

Like a  _ what _ ? Did Mine just hear Bossman say that? Oh, she can feel the blush now. It’s starting at her neck, moving slowly up.

“But I am wooing her like a queen.” Shigure’s smile hasn’t budged. “Cinderella was a servant and became a queen in the end.” 

“It’s not funny. She’s at work, she can’t rebuff you.” 

“She can rebuff me all she likes. Go ahead, Miss Kuramae, rebuff me!”

“I couldn’t possibly,” Mine says. 

“What, you think I’m the Big Bad Wolf?” Shigure’s grin manages to be, indeed, very wolfish. 

“Leave her alone,” Bossman says. 

Shigure half-turns to him. “My, you are upset.” 

“Shigure, back off.” Hatori’s voice cuts in over them. 

When Mine glances at Bossman, his face is controlled, but his hands are in fists. 

“Aw, now I’ve ruined the mood,” Shigure says. “I do apologize. Let’s meet again outside and start over.” 

“Let me get my jacket,” Bossman says, visible exhaling. He retreats to the fitting room, and Mine bows to his guests before following him. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into Shigure,” Bossman says to her. “I mean, I have an idea, he likes to push people’s buttons, but I didn’t think he’d sink so low… Are you upset? Did he-- upset you?” he finishes lamely. 

“I’m fine, Bossman. Don’t worry about me. Go have fun with your friends.” ‘ _ And give me time to collect myself _ ,’ Mine thinks. She picks up his jacket from the table and helps him put it on. For the second time that day, her hands rest on his shoulders. Both of them stand still for a moment. 

Mine decides the moment has to break, so she’ll break it. “Go,” she says. “I’ll hold down the fort.”  

“You’ll do a great job,” Bossman says.

At the door of the fitting room he stops, and says, “Mine--” 

“Yes?” 

“When no one else is here-- you may call me Ayame.” 

Mine catches her breath. “Y-yes, Ayame.” 

It sounds so good, to just say his name. He gives her a brief smile, and like that, is gone.

Mine sinks into the chair. The blouse can wait, she needs some time to  _ process _ .

000

 

A late evening, the break room at the store. One year to the day of Mine’s employment. Ayame loudly regrets that they can’t go out to eat, but they’ve been up so late on a commission whose deadline looms all too near. Now all the “reputable” places, as Ayame puts it, are closed. So Ayame disappears into his office and returns with a bottle of whisky. “We’ll celebrate in an improvisational style,” he says to her.

Mine’s eyes widen when Ayame holds out the whisky bottle so that the label catches the light. “ _ Bossman _ ,” she says.

“What? I can afford to treat my best employee when it’s a one year anniversary.” 

Her astonishment turns to bemusement. “I’m your only employee, sir.” 

“Details, details. You’ve certainly lasted  _ much  _ longer than any of my other assistants.” 

“That whisky--bossman, it’s much too fine. It’s meant for--”

“A special occasion?” Ayame gives the bottle a little shake. “I don’t often get the chance to treat you. I intend to savor this moment.” 

As he pours out the whisky, an odd expression comes over his face. It looks like he means to say more, but is holding back, biting his tongue. He fills the glasses, hands one to Mine, and holds out his own. 

“One successful year!” he toasts. “Here’s to many more. Or,” he adds, “as many as you like. Don’t feel obliged to me. Bottoms up!” 

“Thank you,” Mine says. She follows his example and sips. The gleam of the whisky--the same color as Ayame’s eyes--lingers in her mind’s eye. This is expensive stuff, she remembers, and tries to savor it, even as it burns. 

She holds out her glass. “To the Little Shop of Wonders!” she says. “May it always be a portal to the country of fantasy.”

“Well said,” Ayame tells her, and sips. “May I ask you something?” 

“As long as it’s not impertinent, bossman.” 

“You have my permission to slap me if it is,” he replies, without missing a beat. “Well, perhaps it is a  _ little  _ impertinent… you seem a level headed young lady. You love the costumes and the glamor almost as much as I do…” He ignores her  _ look _ , and goes on, “And you could have found work at a hundred other clothiers. Why this one? Why did you run towards fantasy and illusion?” 

When she doesn’t answer, Ayame says, “Oh, no, that was very impertinent, wasn’t it? Feel free to disregard it. Throw water in my face, if you’re angry. But don’t throw the whisky, it’s too good.” 

“Also, it would burn,” Mine says. She puts down her glass. “I’m not mad. I’m just thinking about my answer. I suppose I can tell you. It’s been a while, now. There was… a girl.” 

Ayame’s eyes widen. “Let me guess. She was a stuck-up queen who spread nasty rumors about you in school.” 

“Not remotely! Let me finish!” 

“Yes, Mine.” Suddenly meek. She smiles. 

“She was my best friend, actually. Since high school. She was my model--I made all the cute outfits for her, and she’d wear them around and tell people I’d made them. And I loved to make things for her. And it took years… before I realized I’d fallen in love with her.” A pause. “She didn’t love me back.” 

“Oh,  _ Mine _ .” 

“It wasn’t her fault. I realized I was in love when she told me she had a boyfriend. Isn’t that awful? You should know you’re in love with someone… when they do something wonderful and good… or they save your life... or when you see them in a beautiful moonbeam…”

“Mmm.” Ayame nods.

“I’m disappointed in myself, frankly. I realized my heart in a… what was that word you used? A paroxysm of jealousy. But I hadn’t realized before. I hadn’t thought… I hadn’t dreamed I could fall in love with another girl.”

“What did you do?

“I tried to tell my friend… how I felt… she didn’t take it well. She returned all the clothes I made for her.” 

“ _ Mine _ . You must have been in agony.” 

“I was. So I made an unwise decision. I left a job that was perfectly steady.  I needed a job that energized me, that engaged me.” She gestures to her heart. “Someplace where I could lose myself in the work. And your shop--was the perfect place.” She holds out her whisky again. “Thank you very much, bossman.” 

“The pleasure is mine. I’m glad I could offer… a little consolation. Is your heart still healing? You are such a professional by day, I can’t always tell…” 

“My heart is healing,” she tells him. “I think… I may have found someone new.” 

Their eyes meet. She’s not afraid. But he’s not ready. She looks away, before the moment becomes awkward. Ayame keeps watching her. 

“So you… bossman…” Mine says, her tone light, “You’re the one who created this island of fantasy. Why did you do such a thing?” 

“My family is fucked up,” he tells her, and the bluntness is so unlike him that she laughs. 

“Do tell.” 

“No… no, that’d ruin your night. Tell me about yourself. Tell me--what was the happiest you’ve ever been? What moments in your life elevated your soul?” 

‘ _ Right now _ ,’ Mine leans forward, and prepares to tell him about her first time visiting Sapporo in the winter. She dares him to read it in her eyes. ‘ _ Right now _ .’ 

000

 

It is the winter solstice, late December. One month after the night of whisky-- a year and a month after Mine began working at Ayame’s Little Shop of Wonders--Mine is preparing her two weeks’ notice. 

She has written out a little speech, and keeps the copy in her purse, where she looks at it in spare moments. She is trying to memorize it. She can’t rely on her courage to make something up on the spot. Better to memorize and recite. It’ll be easier that way.

She is staring at the speech now. Not reading, just staring. For the hundredth time, Mine is justifying her decision to herself. She has to make her heart believe, this is the best way.

She can feel herself falling in love with Ayame. 

She’s not the smartest girl, but she never makes the same mistake twice. Falling in love with the Bossman is not a good idea, whatever the employer. And Ayame Sohma, blowing hot and cold, winking at her one moment and pushing her away the next--better to walk out now, before she gets too hurt. Walk out, girl, while you still can.

“Mine?” 

She snaps back to attention. They are standing in a Family Mart, just around the corner from the shop. It’s going to be another late night; they are buying a quick dinner. 

Why did Ayame come with her? He said he needed to stretch his legs, even though he complained about the cold more than anyone Mine knew.   
“Will you be getting that?” he asks, pointing to the egg salad sandwich and bottle of green tea in her hands. 

Mine assents, and Ayame takes it in two gloved hands. “My treat,” he says grandly, as if a few yen is a big deal. He’s dressed in a deep green coat lined with black fur, and a sprig of holly is tucked into the lapel. As he chats with the cashier, a lock of silver hair falls into his face. Mine’s hands itch to tuck that lock behind his ear--and maybe run over the perfect planes of his face--

No, Mine,  _ no _ . She swallows and looks away, thinking over the speech. “ _ It’s time for me to take what I have learned and move on _ .” 

“Shall we?” Ayame says. The plastic bag looks absurd on his arm, contrasted with the fancy coat. 

“Yes,” Mine says. They walk to the doors, which slide open--along with a cold wind and a flurry of snowflakes.

Ayame swears like a sailor, and Mine blandly says, “It’s cold.” 

“Let’s walk quickly,” Ayame says. “Damn this weather. I forgot…” 

“You forgot it’s winter?” 

Ayame curses the Earth’s rotation as they leave the shop. Curses the winter and the two blocks from here to the shop. Mine silently adds this to her list of reasons why leaving Ayame is a good idea. ‘ _ He’s such a baby _ ,’ she thinks. 

“Everyone else has gone inside,” Mine observes. “The street’s deserted.” 

“We should have called a cab.” 

“Why did you even come along with me?” 

Ayame’s legs pump faster. “I wanted to-- A walk sounded nice, don’t blame me for one little foolish whim!” 

Mine laughs. “I didn’t say I blame you! It’s just a little chill. I’ll fix us some hot cocoa when we get back… your teeth are chattering.” 

“I know.”

“It’s not  _ that  _ cold.” 

“To me it is.”

“Think about something else,” Mine says. “We’re almost there, anyway. Look!” she points to a ground level apartment window. “They’ve put up a Christmas tree!” 

“ _ Fuck  _ the Christmas--” Ayame gives a little gasp, and then there is a  _ POP _ , and his footsteps stop. 

Mine turns, and where there was a man she’s falling in love with there is a pile of clothes and a little plastic bag, gathering snowflakes. The clothes are twitching. 

Mine kneels. “B-bossman? Ayame?” 

She hears a tiny but vehement curse word--Ayame’s voice. A little white snake comes into sight, out of the coat, just a head and a pair of whisky-colored eyes, blinking in the cold. 

Mine’s mind rather splits in two. While one tries to process something that is demonstrably impossible, the other part of her recognizes--a little snake, alone in the cold, and she and Ayame need to get home. 

“Here,” she says, and puts her right sleeve towards the snake. It slithers into her sleeve, and she manages not to shiver. It’s just a little weight on her arm. She loops the Family Mart bag over her elbow, and picks up all of the discarded clothes--Ayame would have a fit if she forgot his custom ordered boots. When she has everything, she takes a deep breath, gets back to her feet, and does not exactly run, but she does walk like hell towards the shop, and the back door.

Then she’s in the break room, the break room where nothing at all out of the ordinary can ever happen. She sets her sleeve by the little wall heater and the snake slithers out. 

“Aah, that’s better,” he says in Ayame’s voice. 

Mine puts the clothes and the food down. She shrugs off her own coat and gloves. She opens the bottle of green tea and takes a long drink. Her legs are shaking, so she sits down. 

“Bossman,” she says, “what is going on?” 

The snake looks at her and says, “It’s me. It’s Ayame. It’s--oh, god. You have to promise, Mine,  _ swear  _ that you’ll never tell this to anyone.” 

“No one would believe me,” she says. Things are starting to sink in. She’s having a conversation with a snake. A snake that is also a man that she is in love with. And she hasn’t freaked out. Yet 

“Swear.” Snake or man, she’s never heard the Bossman this serious. He’s staring at her. 

“I swear,” Mine says. 

“I have a condition,” he starts. “I was born cursed. When I get very cold… or very hot… or even very tired… or…” he hesitates, “if I hug a woman… I turn into a snake.” 

“Wait.” Mine’s mind has snagged. “If you hug a woman?” 

“Yes.” 

“No paroxysms,” Mine whispers. “And here I thought… I thought you didn’t…” She swallows. She can’t say the rest of the words. “When will you turn back?” she asks. 

“Soon. I need to warm up. But, Mine, I warn you… when I do, I will be…  _ au naturel _ .” 

She blinks. He’s speaking French at a time like this? 

He doesn’t interpret her rightly. He adds, “I shall be a model fit for Caravaggio. I shall be  _ in flagrante delicto _ .” 

Mine raises her eyebrows. “That’s not what  _ in flagrante delicto  _ means, Bossman.” 

And Ayame starts laughing. It’s a very strange thing, to see a snake laugh. Mine just drinks more green tea and wonders what’s so funny. 

“Mine!” he says finally, between gasps. “Mine, you are a  _ brick _ .” 

She blinks. “Do I want to be a brick?” 

“Mine, you are the most steadfast, reliable woman I’ve ever known.” 

“And you’re the silliest man!” she says. “Why did you even go on a walk if you know this could happen to you?” 

The little snake-smile disappears. Ayame says, “Will you do me the favor of waiting until I turn into a man again, before I answer that?” 

“Why?” 

Ayame ducks his head. “I don’t want to be ridiculous.” 

“Ridiculous? Ayame…” 

“I know. I’m always ridiculous.” 

“No--only to those who don’t understand. You fling yourself into what you love--what’s ridiculous about that?”

“I mean that I’m a snake right now.” 

Mine can’t argue with that. She asks, “Can I get you any food? Water?” 

“Just your time... Maybe a towel.” 

The timing is good. While Mine is rummaging through the closet for the spare towels they keep around, she hears a  _ POP  _ behind her. She freezes.  

“I’m not turning around,” she says. 

“Throw me a towel,” Ayame says. His voice sounds like it’s coming from the appropriate height. “Please.” 

She closes her eyes, half-turns, and throws a towel at him. She hears a  _ fwump  _ and a soft “thank you.” Mine takes deep, even breaths, and tries not to think about Ayame naked behind her. 

“Okay,” he says. “I’m going to change in the bathroom.” 

She turns back when the bathroom door closes. “I’ll start that hot cocoa,” she says. 

The burner may be small but the hot cocoa mix is of the top-quality brand--Ayame never scrimps on chocolate. And for once, Mine wishes there was liquor around to add. She has a feeling they could use it.

The bathroom door opens. “I’m here,” Ayame says. 

She turns to him. He’s wearing a long grey tunic and trousers of a slightly darker grey. His feet are bare. The light of the breakroom is not flattering--he looks washed out and worn down. More than anything, Mine wants to hold him, comfort him. Instead she says, “Why did you want to come with me on a walk?” 

Ayame takes a deep breath, and doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks down at his hands and says, “I’m afraid. I’ve never been so afraid in my life.” 

Mine crosses to him and takes his hands. He always runs a little cold. She looks into his eyes and says, “Well, I’m the maiden true who can help the ones who are afraid.” 

“The monsters?” 

“I don’t think you’re a monster.” Something occurs to Mine. She turns around and turns off the heat under the hot cocoa. When she looks back at Ayame, he’s smiling.

“I’m being a brick again, aren’t I?” she says.

Instead of answering, Ayame says, “Why did I want to go on a walk? Because it would be a walk with you.” 

Mine slips her fingers into his. She can feel tears welling in her eyes. “I--I was afraid, too. Afraid that I’d fallen in love again, with someone who didn’t love me back.” 

He bends to her, and they’re so close now. “You didn’t make that mistake.” 

“Tell me you care for me. Even a little.” 

“I care for you a lot. Mine--I know I can be obnoxious--”

“I like you an awful lot, Ayame.” 

“This is going to be difficult.” He draws back a little, looking into her eyes. “When I said my family is fucked up, I was downplaying things. If the head of the family finds out--” 

“Then they won’t.” 

“This could be dangerous for you. Even putting aside my incredible powers of self-absorption.” 

“They won’t find out. I want to be with you.” 

He cups her jaw in one hand. “You know me better than anyone has since Hatori and Shigure. And you still like me. I’m going to call the Vatican, this is a miracle.” 

She slips both her hands into his free one and holds tight. Then, on tiptoes, she kisses him. Once. Then again. Now he’s kissing her back, like he damn well means it.

After a while, they pause for breath. They stare at each other, and Ayame says, “I liked you from the start.” 

“You’re too handsome to be street-legal,” she replies.

“Thank you,” he replies automatically. Then his gaze sharpens. “Oh god. I’m your boss.”    
Mine blinks. “You also turn into a snake. It’s not a problem for me.” 

“Oh, no, I don’t want to be the kind of creep who preys on his secretaries. That’s so… so  _ bourgeois _ .” 

In a few minutes, they are broken apart, but their hands touch frequently. Mine finishes fixing the hot cocoa. Ayame prepares the mugs--which are more elegant than they have any right to be-- and brings out a packet of cookies. 

“A lot of my friends have problems with their bosses. One way or another,” she says, “but it’s just the two of us here. You always treat me well. I don’t feel much of a hierarchy.” 

Ayame is deep in thought. “I’ve got it,” he says as Mine pours out the cocoa. “I’ll give you a controlling stock in Little Shop of Wonders…” 

“We have stocks?” 

“Of course we do--and I’ll increase your pay. You and I will be more equal, that way, but on paper you must remain my assistant.” 

“Your family.” 

“You see.” 

“To be more equal to you.” She takes his hand in hers. Their knees are touching under the little table. 

“I’m still afraid,” Ayame says. “I’m afraid for you. If the head of the family finds out…” 

“How about we take it slow?” Mine says. “One day at a time?” 

Ayame nods, and rubs his thumb over her knuckles. She checks her watch. “Bossman?” 

“Yes?” 

“It’s midnight. Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas, Mine.” 


End file.
